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Page 506
limping and crawling away than he expected. Some of those would not fight again. Unfortunately, that was a nothing. They were still badly outnumbered. And that thought turned his ear to the groans and sobs that drifted to him along the wall.
"Geoffrey." He watched the boy struggle upright, supporting himself against the wall. As soon as he was sure the effort would not topple his squire unconscious, he said, "Go and see how Owain does. On your way, count the dead and the wounded who will not be able to fight again. If Owain is whole, bid him from me to send up the women with water and bandagesfood and ale for the men also. If he is hurt, go yourself, but return to where you went down and, when you come up again, finish your count of the dead and wounded. As you pass, order the servingmen to carry down the bodies of the dead. They are to put them out of sightin the storeroom of the keep would be best. The enemy also."
Geoffrey started to sheath his sword, which was still in his hand.
"Wipe it first," Ian said sharply. "Any dead man's shirt will do. If you sheath it bloodied, it is like to rust or, worse, to stick to the sheath so that you cannot draw again in haste when needful."
"Sorry, lord," Geoffrey muttered.
He knew that rule, of course. It was one of the earliest things he had been taught about the use and care of his weapon, but this was the first time he had practical need of the lesson. The mixture of pride, horror, excitement, fatigue, fear, and sickness had driven itand everything elseout of his mind. As he started off around the wall, Geoffrey could only hope he would remember how to count. He was not sure, if Lord Ian had asked him his name instead of addressing him by it, that he would have remembered that.
Now, adding to his confusion, came anxiety. He was worried about Owain. What if Sir Peter had turned on him or deliberately failed to turn aside a blow from

 
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